Statues of Our Lives
by The Girl With the Puff Hat
Summary: Alec Lightwood doesn't fit in anywhere. He can't talk to his siblings or his parents. The only person he actually talks to is the odd statue of a terrified-looking man downtown—which makes him feel weird enough without everyone else judging him. And then it moves. And then Alec realizes things are much more complicated than they seem. Malec AU/AH
1. Statues of Our Pasts

**New Malec fic? Yes? I got this idea driving home from school today and had to do something about it. I hope I don't get jumbled up and forget about All the Locked Doors in the midst of this. This one will be shorter, maybe like 10-15 chapters? ATLD is going to be much longer. Oh well, forgive my rambling.**

**I do not own the characters, and to those who thought I did, wow: I didn't think my resemblance to Cassandra Clare was that close.**

**Please note: In this fic, the characters are still shadowhunter/downworlder like they are in canon, just to dispel confusion.**

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Brilliant light flashed in bolts across the town. Shadows pressed closer, looming up like a dark wave. Magnus Bane was not afraid of the shadows. He met them head on, like he did everything else: with glitter raining off his shoulders and his cat eyes gleaming like beacons. Little did he know that his cockiness was about to get him killed.

He surged forward, magic blaring from his fingertips in blue streaks, but was pulled back before he could demolish the entire square. The hand on his shoulder was rough, unyielding, but comforting just the same. Magnus' father, Asmodeus, the Prince of Edom, shouldered his way to the front lines. Magnus moved to cut in front of him again, but before either of them could lift a finger, an explosion kicked everything to the side—including the warlocks. Magnus was flung backwards until he hit a wall and slid unceremoniously to the ground. Some spikes of his hair fell in his face.

"Oh no, you _don't_ ruin my hair and get away with it," he snarled, getting to his feet. Admittedly it may not have been the best choice to come to battle in heeled boots, but he managed well enough, and charged for his father, arms stretched out as though to hug him. After five or so steps, he noticed the other warlocks doing the same thing: rushing to Asmodeus' side.

Then Asmodeus turned and snapped his fingers, and Magnus stopped mid-stride, his skin turning cold immediately. He could not move his head to look down at himself, but he could see that one of the other warlocks ahead of him had turned to some sort of white stone. He looked like a statue.

Magnus wondered what everyone would think. No mundane could possibly carve such a ridiculous scene into stone like this: a group of men and women with differing animal marks on their bodies, all charging toward an invisible something. He figured one day, one warlock would mention this war (Magnus supposed he would never know what authorities would name it now) and put the pieces together, but likely for years to come, he and his colleagues would be trapped here.

Forever frozen in stone.

Magnus then paused to speculate over the fact that he probably looked ridiculous, running with his arms outstretched like this. His hair was wild and he probably looked terrified. His clothes were rather untidy and there was glitter falling off him, also frozen as a statue in midair. _That doesn't make much sense, does it_, he thought, and then:

_I hope I don't have this itch on my back for the next four hundred years._

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**A/N: I'm going to put the next chapter up later today as an apology that this was so freaking short. The next ones will be longer, since this was supposed to be sort of a prologue in a sense. Hope you liked it! :)**


	2. Statues of Our Pain

**This takes place like 370 or so years after the last chapter. Still own nothing.**

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"I need to get some air." These were the words most commonly heard from Alec Lightwood's mouth, soon followed by the sight of him fleeing down the steps of the Institute, his bow slung over his shoulder as he hastily ran his stele over one of the many runes on his body, making him invisible to the general population.

"What the hell am I doing?" These words, though never actually heard, were the words Alec said much more often than "I need to get some air." These were the words he repeated to himself as his feet traced the familiar path to the town square, to the statues. Alec had been drawn to the statues since he was a little boy, seeing the terror on their faces even while teenagers took pictures of themselves with them and cackled. He watched the common occurrence of a boy reaching out his arms in front of one of them, mirroring his position like the statue was running into his arms.

Izzy and Jace never questioned his frequent disappearances. Sure, Izzy worried about him, what with the demon hordes, and Jace teased him about having a secret girlfriend—_sure, if I wasn't about as straight as a circle, Jace_, Alec thought—but neither of them tried to stop him from leaving. Neither of them ever mentioned anything about '_needing air'_ being an incorrect statement, or wondered if anyone ever said those words and meant them literally. If there was one thing the trio could agree on, it was that the Institute was a suffocating place.

Alec reached the collection of statues and inspected them the way he did every time he saw them. There was the woman in a Victorian dress, holding the skirt up, legs positioned as though she was running. All of them appeared to be running, in fact, as Alec had noticed almost immediately, toward something, the looks on their faces displaying their terror and concern. There was a tall, broad-shouldered man in a suit with horns on his head next to another man with a ponytail and scales on his hand. A tall, older woman was holding the hand of a small girl with gills. Two other women, both with long hair frozen in a bounce, had their arms out the way comic book wizards did when they used magic.

Alec wasn't dumb. He knew these were warlocks, or had been, or at least were carvings of them. He could see many of their warlock marks: the horns, the gills, the scales, the camouflage-patterned skin on one of the women. He couldn't see the marks on a few of them, but figured that they were hidden under clothing or glamoured.

Alec slowly came around to his favorite statue. It was a man, composed of white stone like the others, tall and slender like a dancer. He was wearing knee-high lace-up boots with platforms at least three inches tall, the laces on the left one undone and flapping about. His pants were so tight, Alec had originally thought he wasn't wearing pants at all, but then realized he had to be, since he couldn't see… well, everything. The man was also wearing a multitude of necklaces and a jacket that flowed behind him as he ran, and it was lined with what were probably supposed to be shiny gemstones and exceptionally glittery. In fact, there was glitter all over him, and even trailing behind him in the air, falling off his shoulders and out of his hair. Alec wondered, if this had been carved, how it was possible to capture this man's hair so: spiked up but unruly, swept to the side and arching like a wave, a few strands going the other way and dangling over his face. He looked positively terrified, mouth slightly open, eyes wide, eyebrows raised. His arms were reaching out as though waiting to be embraced.

Alec did not know the name of this statue, but that didn't stop him from talking to it. He'd begun a few years ago by saying "_I don't know what you're running from, but it can't possibly be as scary as Jace in a crab onesie._"

When the statue hadn't looked any less mortified, Alec had laughed and kept talking to it. He couldn't help but feel like someone was actually listening, but that was just wishful thinking. Nobody listened to him; why should this statue? It wasn't like it could actually _hear_ him, in any case. And yet he returned every day to talk to it.

"My parents are getting home tomorrow," he sighed, settling himself in front of the statue. "And they're probably going to be all on my case about everything I do wrong. They always do. It's like they're normal parents when they call in from another country but when they're home, they're like dictators."

He gazed forlornly up at the statue. "I wish you were real," he told it. "So you could complain to me about everything I've complained to you about. And also maybe so I wouldn't feel insane for talking to a statue of a warlock. But maybe if you were real, we wouldn't ever talk, because warlocks and Nephilim don't usually interact in a casual setting."

He looked at his feet for a few seconds, and when he returned his eyes to the statue, the look on its face was no longer one of terror, but one of pleasant surprise. And Alec could've sworn he heard a silky voice in his head.

"_Nobody's ever wished I was real before._"

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Later that night, Alec lay awake, thinking hard about what he'd seen and heard. The statue hadn't _moved_, exactly, but it had definitely _changed_. The stone man had looked surprised after a carved expression of terror for Raziel knew how long. And then that voice… Alec, being a Shadowhunter, had dealt with his fair share of paranormal and inexplicable situations, but never a voice in his head coming from a statue of a warlock. He wanted to know what was going on, if there was something wrong with him.

Sleep found him wandering listlessly through haphazardly organized thoughts.

_He was walking through the town, unarmed, which led him to believe he was definitely not on patrol. He was dressed in jeans and a loose black sweater, and there was a necklace in his hand, a necklace he'd never seen before in his life. It looked like something a faerie would wear, or maybe Izzy if she was in a flamboyant mood. _

_He looked at the sidewalk ahead of him, and found himself approaching a tall man in extravagant clothes: vibrant blue leather pants, a purple button-down shirt with none of the buttons fastened, revealing his caramel-colored chest. A crimson and gold sleeveless coat completed the look, glittering when he stood._ _He held his hand out, and Alec dropped the necklace in. _

"_Thank you, darling," the man said brightly. "I must say, as much as I'm glad to be reunited with this necklace, I would've liked to see it on you."_

_Alec, confused, just stared. Immediately the man sobered, and they dropped out of the town into a living room of an apartment. Now the man was shirtless and wearing what looked suspiciously like Alec's sweatpants, waving his arms around wildly in the air as he talked._

"—_And so Iris and Lorenzo decided it would be a great idea to challenge him, but obviously it wasn't a great idea, was it, since it got all of us immobilized for three centuries—"_

_Alec perked up at that, looking the man over. He looked exactly like the statue he'd been so enamored with for the past years. And almost like he could read Alec's thoughts, the man stopped talking and turned toward him with a sympathetic look._

"_I meant what I said, you know. Nobody's ever wanted me to be real before. You are something extraordinary, Alexander Lightwood."_

"_I don't understand," Alec choked out, finally finding his voice. "Are you? Real, that is?"_

"_That depends on your definition of real, love," the man grinned. "There are too many years of history to explain in a single message, so I will say only this: I am more of a story than a person."_

"_Message? Isn't this a dream?" Alec looked out the window, and Jace and Clary shot by on a flying motorcycle. _

"_Indeed; I cannot speak to you otherwise."_

"_How did you become a statue?" Alec asked._

"_Would you believe me if I said I don't know? Ragnor and I were getting ready to lead the revolt, but then my father stepped in. He snapped his fingers, there was this epic explosion, and then the enemy was gone, but the entire group of warlocks were stone, and my father was nowhere to be seen."_

"_How long ago was this?" Alec was dumbstruck. "How long have you been a statue?"_

"_Really, hon, I didn't have a calendar within reading distance all those years, but I suspect it's been at least three hundred fifty years. What year is it now?"_

_Alec rattled off the date, and the man looked shocked._

"_Well, then it's been three hundred and sixty seven years," he decided. "It's a wonder Camille didn't come knocking."_

"_What… what is your name?" Alec asked, rather awkwardly. "I've been talking to you for so long, but I could never think of a name and I never knew if you actually had one."_

"_That is a good question, love," the man stroked his chin. "Maybe I had one once, but after three hundred sixty seven years of nobody speaking it… it's hard to say."_

"_What would you like to be called, then?"_

"_I remember being called Magnus once," the man told him. "You may call me Magnus Bane." _

"_Magnus Bane," Alec repeated, liking the way the syllables rolled off his tongue. "Can you hear me, when I talk to you?"_

"_Of course I can, dear," Magnus waved the question off. "And it's rather painful, not being able to talk back."_

"_Is there a way to free you?" Alec wondered, sitting forward in his chair. Magnus opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Alec woke up._

He sat up quickly, surprised to find himself in his own bed, then angry that he hadn't gotten his answer. It was only after moping for a few minutes that he remembered he'd gotten a name. _I got his name! _He grinned to himself. _I actually got his name!_ He rushed downstairs to the Institute databases and typed in _Magnus Bane_. Results popped up eagerly, and he spent some time flicking through them, reading about the warlock.

"He's hot," Izzy said from behind him, and he jumped. "Why are you researching a dead warlock, Alec?"

"He's not dead, Iz," Alec sighed.

"How would you know?" Isabelle looked suspicious. "Have you seen him? Talked to him?"

Alec wasn't sure how to answer that. "It doesn't matter," he finally said. "But he isn't dead and I need to help him."

"Help him with what?"

And so Alec sighed, closed the computer, and looked his sister in the eyes.

"It's not important, Izzy."

His sister crossed her arms and gazed up at him defiantly. "I think it is. I'd like to know why you're trying to help the warlock that tried to annihilate the world as we know it."

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Well, that's a bit complicated, if I do say so myself. You may have picked up on this, but the warlocks I mentioned had been turned into statues are Tessa Gray, Ragnor Fell, Lorenzo Rey, Iris Rouse, Madzie, Catarina Loss, and Dorothea. Yes I used some of the warlocks from the show, sue me. Now to write the next chapter.


	3. Statues of Our Smiles

**Aha, a new chapter. lovely. I own nothing. I wonder if Cassandra Clare ever wanted to write a Malec fanfic, she would actually be able to own stuff. she could say "Ah yes, I own these characters." And not be kidding. How I envy her. But let's be real, people: why would Cassandra Clare write fanfiction if she could just publish a book full of Malec fluff? (This is me being way too in love with the Red Scrolls of Magic, btw).**

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Magnus had been prepared to be alone for all eternity and then some, stuck in this ridiculous position and never being able to move. At least the itch on his back had faded. People took selfies with him and posed with him and the others, making fun of their terrified expressions and overdramatizing everything about them. Someone had acted like Catarina—calm, caring Catarina—was using the force to strangle them. Magnus had wanted to then strangle that stupid mundane, but luckily for the mundane, stone fingers were not ideal for such activities.

And then came the blue eyed boy: lost and uncertain, only needing someone to confide in. He'd never taken a photo of Magnus. He'd never touched any of the statues. He'd respected them, and there was a careful knowledge in his gaze: he _knew_ they were warlocks, he knew they'd lived once. And strangest of all: the boy was a _Nephilim_. A Shadowhunter. Part of the very species Magnus had been immobilized trying to demolish. It was rare that Nephilim ever cared about warlocks, or any of the Downworld for that matter. This one was special.

And that was why Magnus had been sending him the dreams. Whenever a demon got too close to the boy—who was named Alexander Lightwood—Magnus would shoo it off, standing protectively over his Nephilim. Ragnor would've teased him relentlessly if he knew Magnus was referring to the boy as _his_ Nephilim, but Alexander felt like his. The boy never looked at the other statues. He never told them how he was feeling, which songs upset his heartbeat, what smells made him smile, what colors he saw when he closed his eyes, what books made him curl up and sob. Magnus felt like he _knew_ this boy. He wanted to be able to talk back to him, to tell him everything about himself too.

He remembered the day Alec had come up to him crying with a book in his hand and had talked for almost an hour about how they both died at the end, even though it specifically stated in the title that _They Both Die at the End_.

He remembered how Alec had sat next to him with a black coffee and awkwardly said that if Magnus could drink coffee he would've gotten him one too. Magnus had wanted to smile more than anything else. He remembered Alec stumbling to him in the middle of the night saying that he wished he could hug Magnus because his parents were home and they would find out.

He remembered cursing his father for making him a statue, because now he wanted to hold this boy and he could not.

He'd finally managed to speak to Alec in a dream—something he'd been trying to do for a while. The conversation had not led where Magnus had hoped. He hadn't mentioned that there was a way to free him. He'd felt the uneasiness radiating off of Alec during the encounter, but didn't know the cause. It may have been him, or the fact that his parents were once again home. Magnus disliked Alexander Lightwood's parents. They put way too much stress on the boy, and stress was not good for complexion.

In what was probably the space of a blink (Magnus could not blink, so he did not know for sure) it was daylight again, and Alec was trudging towards him.

"Morning," he said moodily. "I feel _weird_. I know you can hear me, if the dream told me anything… but it's only just starting to feel like I'm talking to a statue. Which makes no sense, since I didn't know you _weren't_ a statue until last night… I'm rambling. God, I need to shut up. Magnus. Oh yes, I have a name for you now. _Magnus_. You look like a Magnus, you know that? My sister says I shouldn't help you. She says you tried to destroy our people. I know you can't talk to me, but I need to talk to you. I need answers." He whispered the last part.

Magnus cast his mind out and captured the consciousness of the Shadowhunter. _They appeared on a beach, dressed in swimwear._

_"Better?" He smirked, running his eyes up and down Alec's chest, reveling in the blush he received as a reward._

_"At least you can talk now."_

_"Yes, that is always a plus: the ability to speak," Magnus agreed pleasantly._

_"You moved. I saw you," Alec accused. "Yesterday, when I told you I wished you were real. Your face changed."_

_Magnus was shocked. "It did? That's impossible!"_

_"I saw it."_

_"That means this is an actual curse, and not just a joke my father played. It means there's something you can do to help me. Will you help me, Alexander?"_

_"I'd like to." His voice was small: a bare whisper. "But Izzy said some things and I'm nervous now. Apparently you have a reputation, Magnus Bane."_

_"Ah yes. You're referring to my part in the warlock revolt all those centuries ago? I will admit, I did some things I regret, but the plan and the execution were someone else's cup of tea. My father's. He's hated your kind since your kind existed or since hate existed, whichever came first. That sounded better in my head."_

_Alec cracked a smile. "It always does."_

_"It does, doesn't it?"_

_"I think so." Alec laughed. Magnus wanted to kiss him. Then he wanted to hit himself over the head. Warlock plus Nephilim equals… universe-exploding-level bad news. It didn't help knowing that Alec was gay, either, did it? Magnus settled for smiling warmly at the Nephilim in question._

_"I need you to find my friend Raphael Santiago. He's a vampire," Magnus explained. "He knows about these curses and will be able to help you help me."_

_"Okay," Alec said. "I can do that. What kind of curse is it?"_

_"I can think of three things. One, it's an emotional curse, and can be broken if I feel any emotion strong enough. Like the shock I felt when you told me you wished I was real. It's been centuries since anyone's cared that much, and so you were able to alter my facial expression. Second and third options: love curse. Either I have to fall in love with someone or they have to fall in love with me to break it, but that's very cliche and not my father's typical style."_

_"Who's your father? If he's a well-known demon, I could look in the Institute's archives for a curse up his alley."_

_Magnus looked at the ground. It was an innocent question. "Asmodeus," he said softly._

_"Okay, that makes things easier for me in the research department," Alec laughed. Noticing Magnus' stunned look, he softened. "You don't pick your parents, Magnus. I understand being ashamed of your parents and wishing you were part of a different family sometimes, perhaps more than anyone. Asmodeus is easy to research. I can start later today."_

_"You need to wake up now," Magnus told Alec sadly. Alec smiled at him_, and then they were back in the town square, Alec getting to his feet from where he'd likely collapsed from the sleep spell. He was still smiling.

"I'll save you. I promise," he breathed, resting a hand on Magnus' stone shoulder. Magnus pretended he could feel Alec's touch. But then he realized there was no need: he could feel something. It was warmth. And he loved it.

_That's a big promise_, he wanted to say, but his cold lips would not move, and he watched with tired eyes as Alec walked away.

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**A/N: I am now officially on spring break and thus will probably write more than can be considered healthy. I will also probably binge read all the Malec fanfiction on the site. YOLO!**

**Sorry this chapter is shorter than Clary... :P**

**Review?**


	4. Statues of Our Doubts

**This took waaaayyyyyy too long... sorry. **

**I own nothing.**

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Alec had not talked to anyone about what Izzy had said. He couldn't associate Magnus with destroying the world. It was just impossible. He was now determined to discover a logical explanation; he knew there had been a warlock revolt hundreds of years ago, and the Greater Demon Asmodeus—who was, coincidentally, Magnus' father… or maybe it wasn't a coincidence at all—was involved, but he also knew there was more to the story than that. And he was going to figure it out.

He typed _Raphael Santiago_ into the computer and found that he was indeed a vampire: a high-ranking one, too, who led the vampire clan in the area. He apparently lived at the Hotel DuMort. Alec geared up and prepared to head out, but his parabatai, Jace, stopped him.

"Yo, Alec, where are you going, man?" He asked, running up and clapping his hand on Alec's shoulder.

"Patrols," Alec said.

"Alright, let's go." Jace pushed the door open and headed outside. Alec facepalmed internally.

"No, Jace. I'm going to talk to some vampires and I need to do it alone."

"Alec, why the hell—" Jace cut himself off, shaking his head. "Dude. I'm coming. You need backup anyway."

"Fine," Alec relented, and led Jace across town. They passed the statues, and he couldn't stop himself from glancing at Magnus. He wasn't sure if Jace noticed his look, but he definitely noticed the statues, and jogged over to them.

"Woah. I don't think I've been down here in a while. I barely remember these things."

Alec wanted to tell him that they weren't _things_, they were warlocks, but he knew Jace wouldn't believe him and he wasn't in the mood to explain it. So he kept his mouth shut until they reached the DuMort.

"I'm here to see Raphael," Alec yelled when two vampires grabbed him and tried to bodily shove him back outside. "I need to talk to him!"

"Why?" One of the vampires hissed.

"It's about an old friend of his," Alec said. "Please? I'm not on duty. I'm here because of something more personal."

"Fine," the vamp snarled. "But Blondie waits outside."

"Deal," Alec sighed. "Jace, you heard him."

"Right, then." The vampire turned and dragged Alec deeper into the hotel, to an office where a vampire in a blue tuxedo sat, legs crossed, in a large, posh chair. He was smirking.

"Did he send you?" Raphael asked, his tone flat. Alec stopped in his tracks.

"What?"

"Asmodeus," Raphael elaborated. "Did he send you?"

"N-no," Alec stammered. "I was sent by a warlock called Magnus Bane? He says you can help him."

Raphael paled further, and the vamp behind Alec let out a small gasp. Raphael stood up. "That's impossible. Magnus has been dead for hundreds of years."

"Are you sure?" Alec questioned.

"Positive." Raphael raised his eyebrows at Alec.

"How can you be certain?"

"I killed him myself." He looked up, eyes dark. "I suppose I owe you an explanation. It was a dark time, Shadowhunter, and the Downworld was in chaos. Magnus and a few of his allies—warlocks and wolves and vampires and Seelies alike—decided that the only way to free our world was to destroy yours. They were under the impression that once Shadowhunters were gone, the world would be a better place. Kind of like a reverse Valentine, right? Anyway, they rallied the Downworld and were prepared to march on Idris."

Alec was shocked. "Then why are the statues _here_?"

"We moved them after the attack," Raphael shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I got my allies in the way of Magnus and was able to summon his father with the help of a warlock called Elias. Asmodeus decided the punishment for the warlocks who went against the angels' wishes was to turn them to stone for eternity. That would've been that, but of course Magnus had to try to challenge his father."

"What did he do?" Alec was rather nervous now.

"He told his father that this wasn't a just punishment. He said it was his idea and that he should bear the cross. Asmodeus laughed, when he came to me later. He said that Magnus was the meeting point. To break the curse on all of those warlocks, a Shadowhunter different from all the rest must find Magnus. Only that particular Shadowhunter can free Magnus, and only Magnus can free the warlocks."

"What do you mean, _a Shadowhunter different from all the rest?_" Alec echoed.

"Most Shadowhunters who know Magnus Bane despise him," Raphael shrugged. "Find the one who doesn't." He waved at the vamp by the door, who came and dragged Alec out. "We're done here."

Alec did not struggle as he was led away. His heart felt heavy. He knew which Shadowhunter was different from all the rest, which Shadowhunter had to save Magnus: _Him_. But he had no idea where to start.

Back at the Institute, he managed to avoid Izzy and dug into researching this curse. He thought about what Magnus had said: that it might involve falling in love. Alec was not ready to think about that. It was bad enough already that he had to hide his sexuality; he couldn't try to hide Magnus too. Especially if news got out that he wasn't a statue anymore. That would be kind of difficult to explain without the truth coming out. _Yeah… he's not a statue anymore. There was this curse, see, and to break it you had to fall in love, but we're definitely not in love! _Right. Not even Jace would believe that story.

One article he read told him to match the emotion of the cursed person. Alec wasn't entirely sure how he was supposed to do that; it was pretty hard to fake terror if you weren't an actor, and there wasn't really anything he had to be terrified about, anyway. He closed the computer, leaned back, and sighed heavily.

"Hello, big brother," Izzy said, walking up behind him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Iz."

"Alec. You've been ignoring us all day. You wouldn't even talk to Clary, and you two are such good friends, it's kind of ridiculous. Something's going on."

"Just researching this curse," he relented.

"Alec, this curse hasn't been used for hundreds of years," she told him. "There's something going on and I want you to tell me. I promise, whatever it is, I won't judge you and I won't even tell Jace." She looked pleadingly up at him.

He groaned. "Fine, Izzy, I'll tell you." He sat down on his bed and she flopped down next to him, as though it was her room and not his. "So there are these statues downtown, right? And I've been looking at them for a while, and they're actually _warlocks_. They're cursed to be trapped in stone until someone frees Magnus Bane. I went to talk to Raphael today—he's a vampire who knew Magnus before he was turned to stone—and he said that a Shadowhunter who was different from the others was the only one who could free him. He meant _me_."

"So you have to fall in love with Magnus?" Izzy looked incredulous. "Alec—"

"Not necessarily," Alec said. "I just have to _care_ about him. I just have to _not hate him_."

"You already care. You've been doing this research—you're obviously invested in this. You'll free Magnus, I know you will." She patted him on the knee and left his room. "I love you, big brother."

"Love you too, Iz," he called back tiredly, and couldn't help but wonder what he was getting himself into.

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**Huzza for crappy endings and short chapters! But oh well, I was feeling a bit rushed while I wrote this, and I apologize. Anyway. I promise things will pick up in the next chapter; this one was a bit of a filler. Reviews? *Puppy dog eyes***


	5. Statues of Our Hopes

**A/N: If you read the most recent chapter of All the Locked Doors, you'd know I've had some issues this week with my computer being a bitch and the coronavirus putting my entire town on lockdown. I shall contaminate you all through fanfiction, bwahaha. I have the rest of this all planned out: four or five more chapters, maybe six. And then I have some more ideas that I need to write.**

**Also, if any of you have a story you'd like me to read and review, I'll do it (Doesn't matter what fandom, even if I'm not a part of that fandom, I love reading everybody's writing!). Either put it in a review or PM me; if my PMs work (there's like a 50% chance they will) I'll get back to you.**

**On with the chapter!**

* * *

Alec went to see Magnus again the next day. He didn't know how Magnus had reached into his head to speak to him before, but he made sure to stand close to the statue in case he did it again.

"Hey, Magnus," he said tiredly when he arrived. "I learned some stuff about Raphael and this curse… if you want to do the head thing again."

He blinked, and the statue's face was different again, a sort of smirk that was arrogant and _maybe_ a little bit sexy (don't tell anyone). And the next thing he knew, there was a white flash and he and Magnus were sitting in a ferris wheel compartment with an open top. Alec's feet were in Magnus' lap; he was wearing some sort of classy white shoes, which Magnus was drawing on with a glittery purple instrument, which Alec suspected was probably an eyeliner pencil and not a crayon.

"Head thing," the warlock snickered. "I suppose that's a good name for it. Am I in your head more than just these meetings?"

Alec stammered very professionally at him. Magnus laughed.

"I suppose you're confused about a lot of things, darling Alexander. We're in a ferris wheel because I felt like it, for one. Is there someplace you'd rather be?" They appeared in some fancy restaurant, dressed in tuxedos and sitting across from each other at a candle-adorned circular table. Alec blushed redder, Magnus noticed, and they were on a boat behind a waterfall. Magnus was wearing Hawaiian flower-patterned swim shorts and his caramel skin gleamed from the caress of the water. Alec was sure his entire body was blushing at this point, but Magnus, after letting his own eyes slowly sweep over Alec, decided this was the best location.

"I talked to Raphael," Alec began. "He wasn't super helpful, but he did tell me about how one Shadowhunter who was different from all the others could set you free."

"Well, the obvious choice is you. You care enough to try to help me," Magnus smiled, and Alec noticed there were no oars in the boat. "But Valentine is also different from all the other Shadowhunters, isn't he? As is your good friend Clary?" He paused to take in Alec's expression, and sighed. "It's definitely you. Valentine doesn't know I exist and Clary's mother has it out for me because of some stuff I did with her memories when Clary was a kid. Besides, I think I'd rather it be you than anybody else." He smiled again, wider, his entire face lighting up. Alec smiled back, if a bit awkwardly.

"Do you know what I have to do to free you?"

"Did Raphael tell you?"

"No—he was basically like, _Magnus tried to burn down the world once, then he got turned into stone, and you're the only one who can free him, so get out of my house_," Alec said, mimicking Raphael's aloof tone. Magnus smirked. "But I did research the curse when I got back to the Institute. Either we have to fall in love, or—"

"Great! Let me go fetch my golden carriage and sunset!" Magnus grinned, and laughed at the look on Alec's face.

"—_or_ I have to match the emotion you were feeling when you were frozen. You looked terrified at first, so I'm assuming that's how you felt?"

"Oh, honey," Magnus laughed sadly. "It wasn't just _terror_. You would have to be running forward like the world was ending right in front of you, reaching for the one person you would give everything to protect, and knowing that you started running half a second too late. It's all-consuming. I don't think there's a way you can feel something that strongly in a way that could possibly save me."

And the look he gave Alec then was so warm, and yet so empty, that Alec couldn't help but reach out and take his hand. He wanted to do more than just be there, but sometimes just being there was enough. He ran his thumb over Magnus' knuckles, feeling the skin there, feeling the lack of stone that he knew would be there when he opened his eyes. Magnus waved his free hand, and the boat floated out into the open, where the sky above glittered with stars.

"Sometimes," he said, looking up so Alec could see the smooth curve of his neck, "I think that everything would be fine if I knew you could see the stars." He looked back down. "Even if I was somewhere dark and ugly. If you could see the stars, for some reason that would make it perfectly fine."

Alec, dumbfounded, just stared. Magnus winked at him.

"Just thinking out loud, darling. So… you go fall in love with me or do something that would put your family in mortal peril," he said cheerfully, and—

—Alec was waking up on the ground again. It was raining, and someone had propped an umbrella above him. He had no idea how long it had been since he'd arrived at the circle of statues, but it hadn't been raining when he'd gotten there and obviously it had been long enough that someone had gotten worried and placed the umbrella over him. He picked it up and held it over Magnus while he looked at him.

"We will figure this out," he said firmly. "And hopefully nobody has to die and we don't have to fall in love to do it." He didn't know what it would be like to fall in love. All he knew was that it was a massive, blind commitment: you entrusted your heart to someone without looking to see how full their arms were, and just hoped they wouldn't drop it. You had no control over how they would look at your heart, either; they might hold it close and give you theirs in return, or they might turn it over, make a weird face, look at it under a microscope, poke and prod at it until it splintered. Alec didn't want anybody to mess with his heart—or any of his internal organs, for that matter—in such a judgemental or careless way.

He leaned forward, stepping between Magnus' outstretched arms, and hugged him. The stone of the statue's hair was rough against his cheek, and he pulled back quickly, realizing how odd it may have looked to the general public: a young man in black hugging a statue in the pouring rain. Alec left the umbrella propped against Magnus' shoulder, securing it in the fold of his coat, and walked off toward the Institute.

* * *

Magnus felt warmth blossom in his chest when Alec hugged him, and he wanted to laugh at the adorable blush that covered his cheeks when the Shadowhunter pulled away and slipped the umbrella into Magnus' arm. Magnus couldn't feel the rain, but it was an overbearingly sweet gesture that made him want to do a silly dance and giggle like a teenage girl.

He couldn't deny that he was a bit disappointed when Alec said he'd rather figure this all out without falling in love with Magnus, but couldn't put his finger on _why_ the disappointment came before anything else. Of course it was _practical_ that way: if they fell in love, it would be hard to fall _out_ of love once Magnus was freed. Freeing him without those emotions would probably be better for both of them. He could see no good reason for disappointment.

In fact, he would only _have_ a reason to be disappointed if he were already—_oh God._ He wanted to smack himself. He wasn't sure when it had happened, or maybe if it had been going on ever since he'd met the boy, but it was staring him full in the face now, and like a siren, its deadly beauty enraptured him, and he couldn't look away.

He knew Alec was gay. He knew Alec found him attractive—hell, who didn't? He knew Alec was still in the closet and cared a little more than he should about what everyone else thought about him. So the chances of Alec feeling the same way weren't great, but they weren't terrible either. Magnus was thoroughly confused by this particular Nephilim, and he found he didn't mind. Being confused by Alexander Lightwood was something he was proud of.

What if Alec freed him without love? Would he leave Magnus forever if he managed such a feat? Magnus didn't know if he could take that. He knew he wouldn't be able to let go of Alec that easily. Maybe he ought to become the High Warlock of this town, and use that as an excuse to see the blue-eyed Shadowhunter again. But what if Alec did fall for him, and freed him that way? It wasn't exactly something you did every day; Alec would probably have issues explaining everything to his family afterward. Maybe the siblings Alec constantly talked about—Izzy and Jace—would hate him. Maybe Alec would be stripped of his runes.

Magnus shoved his doubts down and thought about where he would take Alec the next time they met in a dream. He grinned wickedly when he decided.

* * *

**A/N: So I know exactly what I'm doing for the rest of this story! It'll be four more chapters if everything goes according to plan—maybe five if I include an epilogue.**

**Hope everyone's having an awesome day (and for those in areas affected by the coronavirus like my town, happy quarantine!)**


	6. Statues of our Fears

**A/N: I'm sorry! Here, I'm posting two chapters today to make up for my writer's block and procrastination. **

**Disclaimer: Don't own, blah blah blah**

* * *

Alec was freaking out. He knew what this feeling was because of its description in books, but he'd never felt it. Had he been an author, he may have described it as chaos: a hectic whirlwind that set his heart racing and the blood rising to his face without warning… a disorienting shift in his life that had been like straightening a crooked shelf: it felt odd, but more right than he'd expected. And, well—that scared him.

He paced around his bedroom at the Institute, trying to resist the urge to tug out his hair. He knew that if anybody were to ask him what was wrong, he would either snap at them, ignore them, or tell them, and he wasn't quite sure which would be worse.

"Alec?" A small voice penetrated his raging mind. "Are you okay?"

"Clary," he sighed, flopping down on his bed. She flopped next to him in a similar manner, whacking him across the face in the process. He slapped her back lightly, grinning. He and Clary had maybe hated each other in the start, but now they were close friends; she was dating his parabatai, in any case. The two of them routinely left and got tacos during Simon's horrible performances, and she was one of three people who knew he was gay (the others being Izzy and, of course, Magnus), which led to the two of them making pillow forts and eating ice cream and watching action movies to marvel over the cast.

"Something's wrong," she proclaimed.

"How perceptive of you," he retaliated, but offered no further information. She dropped a pillow on his face.

"Start talking and I won't send Izzy in," she compromised.

"Oh, were you going to do that?"

"Woe is me!" Clary exclaimed. "He has foiled my master plan! I must strike now while I still can!" And she promptly began to tickle him, until he was reduced to a laughing mess.

"Fine, fine, I'll talk."

She pumped her fists triumphantly and settled back to hear his story. He recounted the statues, the vampires, the dreamscapes, the curse, Magnus, and how he, despite his promise not to, was falling in love with the petrified warlock. When he was done, she looked rather amazed.

"Woah, Alec, that's like, incredible! Do you know how to free him?"

"No, and that's the problem," he sighed.

"Have you tried hugging him?"

"I've hugged him, yeah, even once in real life, but nothing happened."

"Have you kissed him?" Clary elbowed him in the rib.

"Brilliant, Fray! I'll just walk up to a statue and kiss it! That's sure to be considered normal—even if I'm glamoured, especially if that does free him and suddenly there's a man where a statue used to be, kissing an invisible person. What could possibly go wrong?"

"A lot of things, actually," Clary said, and Alec clapped a hand over her mouth.

"It was not a question I wanted answered," he informed her.

"Oh." She looked disheartened for a moment, then perked up again. "You should kiss him in that dream world!"

"Next time he summons me there, I'll see about it," Alec said. "Thanks, Clare-bear."

"Anytime, Allie-cat," she smirked, ruffled his hair, and skipped out of his room. He put the pillow back over his face and wondered if it was too early to fall asleep. It was seven o'clock. He could not possibly get away with it.

"Dude," Jace said, marching into Alec's room.

"There's a door," Alec grumbled, throwing his shoe at his parabatai. "For knocking."

"Is that what that is?" Jace looked at the door in mock realization. "How fascinating! Anyway, Alec, you're moping, and as your brother and parabatai, it is my job to find out why."

"Your girlfriend beat you to it," Alec grumbled. "I'm not in the mood to talk any more tonight."

"Clary got you to talk?"

"What do you expect? She's persuasive. And besides, she threatened to bring Izzy in, and I didn't want her to do that."

"I have discovered your weakness," Jace said, and proceeded to belt out an evil laugh that put Lord Voldemort to shame. Then he left the room and Alec got up to shut the door, cursing whatever deity had invented doors for making them so useless.

Izzy knocked, at least, but ignored his 'go away' and flounced into the room like she owned it. "Big brother, you have some serious explaining to do."

"Nope. I've explained all I'm going to explain today," said Alec.

"You're not going to have dinner?"

"Did you make it?" He asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Maybe," Izzy grinned.

"Then no." Alec turned over on his side, so that his back was to his younger sister. He felt more than heard her leave the room, and then there was silence.


	7. Statues of Our Dreams

Alec opened his eyes, blinking away the sleep. The sun was dancing in uninvited from the large window in front of him, which seemed odd somehow despite the normalcy of it. People woke up to the sun in their bedrooms, didn't they?

It took Alec a moment to realize two things: one, the sunlight was weird because his room didn't have a window where this window was, and two, there was someone else in the bed. Someone with caramel skin, black hair, and cat eyes, watching him sleep with a peaceful expression along with something else, something warmer. When Magnus noticed Alec awake, there was a flash of something in his eyes, but it was gone as soon as it had appeared, and then Alec was left feeling a sort of wanting—wanting that fleeting look back. But he dismissed the thought immediately. He'd already confessed to Izzy how he might feel about Magnus. He could blame imagining affectionate looks on that.

"Good morning, love," Magnus said, sitting up. The blanket pooled around his hips, and only then did Alec notice his state of undress. He realized that he himself was just as naked as Magnus was and his entire body felt like it was on fire. He scrambled as far away from Magnus as he could without falling off the bed.

"You said you choose the locations of these dream meetings?" Alec stammered. "Why this?"

"I figured I might never get a real chance to get you in my bed," Magnus said easily. "If it makes you more comfortable…" he snapped his fingers, and they were both fully clothed: Alec in his usual jeans and sweater, and Magnus in sinfully tight pink leather pants and a black tank top that read Blink if You Want Me in gold sequins. Alec got out of bed and stretched, then sat back down on top of the blankets.

"But why would you—" he was cut off by Magnus snapping his fingers again, causing a plate of chocolate covered strawberries to appear between them.

"I owe you both an apology and an explanation," the warlock said. "I will start with the explanation. When you tentatively agreed to help free me from this curse, neither of us knew anything about it. I was wondering exactly what we would have to do to break it. I was prepared to have you stab me, or have to use magic on both of us during these dream sessions, or to have you drag me to Alicante to the place I was turned, or even to go to Edom directly. I'll admit the thought of more romantic curse-breakers did cross my mind at several points, and then I realized I wasn't just thinking about the curse anymore." He looked up to meet Alec's gaze.

"Okay?" Alec was still confused, but his heart decided now was a great time to speed up.

"And as for the apology," Magnus continued, "I'm sorry because I know that I am in no position to interfere with your life more than I already have."

"I don't understand," Alec said slowly.

"I know you wanted to solve this curse without falling in love," Magnus sighed, burying his face in his hands. Ha, that ship has sailed, Alec thought wryly, but his concern for Magnus stopped him from speaking. "But I can't do that, Alexander."

Alec was speechless. "I—"

"I love you, Alec," Magnus groaned, flopping back onto his pillows. His necklaces bounced waywardly off his chest and he threw one arm over his eyes. "And I know it's weird, and I know that you don't feel that way about me, but—"

"Actually," Alec said in a small voice, and Magnus sat up quickly, a shocked and hopeful look on his face. "I do. I was scared to tell anybody, but obviously Izzy found out, and—"

"Can I kiss you, Alexander?" Magnus breathed, and Alec nodded mutely, feeling the air warp around them as Magnus leaned closer, as though the universe was stretching and folding to fit them beside each other.

Then Magnus flickered—literally flickered, like there was bad connection— and doubled over as though he was in pain. He looked up at Alec, agony written across his face, and then vanished.

And Alec woke up, feeling nothing but cold.


	8. Statues of Our Hearts

**A/N: Hey guys…. so sorry this took so long! I'm afraid I'm not going to be updating as fast as I did in the past due to my schoolwork and stress from covid-19 and the quarantine. My life got kind of thrown off its course, so I've been dealing with some shit (I'm okay, don't worry :P) but here's the next chapter.**

**The usual disclaimers apply.**

* * *

Alec jumped out of bed. It was dark, so he figured it was actually nighttime and not the pitiful excuse of an hour he'd gone to bed. He checked his clock: eleven p.m. His mind and heart raced together, step in step, as he fumbled for his shoes and jacket. His gut feeling was that he had to get to Magnus. He didn't know what was happening or why, or how, but he had to be there. That he could be certain of.

He blew past Izzy in the hallway, heard her yell after him, and ignored her. He almost leapt the entire staircase in front of the institute and twisted his ankle upon landing, but he didn't let that hinder him.

Pain wasn't going to stop him from getting to Magnus.

He reached the town square and almost didn't recognize it. The buildings were still in the same place, the bench with the broken armrest was still right where it had been for ages, but the statues were what made all the difference.

Namely, because they were gone.

Alec cast his gaze around the circle where the warlocks had previously stood. A man was hoisting one of them up over his shoulder, turning, and walking over to a large truck, which already contained most of the stone warlocks. Alec's feet decided to interfere before the rest of him could protest, and he found himself walking briskly over to the man.

"What are you doing?"

"Moving these statues," shrugged the man.

"Why?" Alec tried to keep his voice cool.

"Some bloke called Horace Dearborn is paying us to," said the man. "Says they're interferin' with the atmosphere of the place. Bull, if you ask me, but hey, it pays." He set the statue in the bed of the truck and turned to retrieve the last one. Alec looked for Magnus before realizing a few things: the truck bed was only big enough to hold five or six of the statues, and out of the about fifteen there'd been, these men would need at least two more trucks. He looked in the direction the front of the truck was facing, and spotted a second truck about to turn onto another street, heading away from the square.

Magnus' stone face stared back at Alec from the receding truck, his arms still reaching out, but only now did Alec truly understand the desperation in the way his arms were raised or the terror on his face, and he shot toward the truck, mirroring the position himself.

He ran blindly, almost knocking over a person in an ugly red coat in his haste, and when he was both within reach of Magnus and absolutely sure he wasn't, he jumped, putting all his faith in his Shadowhunting ability. He hadn't activated any runes and his panic was clouding his judgement. He thought he might have to apologize to Clary for reprimanding her about feelings.

He reached Magnus and wrapped his arms around his middle, looping his arms underneath the statue's cold stone ones. But with nowhere to go, and gravity still very much in effect, he began to fall backward out of the moving truck, toward the concrete road that would likely cause immense pain upon the inevitable collision. Alec braced himself, clutching Magnus closer, screwed his eyes shut—

It did hurt, yes, but Alec didn't care, because somewhere between the truck and the ground something _changed_, and the weight in his arms didn't feel so much like stone anymore. He hit the ground on his back and winced, opened his eyes and looked down at the man in his arms, who was solid and warm and _Magnus_ and very much alive, and very much not a statue. An elated laugh escaped the warlock's lips as he raised himself to his elbows to grin down at Alec, his cat eyes gleaming and welling with tears.

"I can _feel_ again," he breathed. "Thank you." Alec listened to the wind running through his hair, the truck driving away, both of them breathing roughly, and their synchronized heartbeats. The sound seemed louder than anything else, their hearts drowning out the rest of the world. And he realized that maybe Magnus wasn't the only thing that had been encased in stone for much too long.

Both men stood, and Magnus wrapped Alec in a hug that threatened to break his ribs. They held on like that for what was much too long and barely long enough at all, until Magnus pulled away to look at Alec again, his hands sliding down Alec's arms to hold his hands.

"You know," he said, "my question of whether or not I could k—" he was cut off because Alec, in a rare impulsive moment, had swooped in and claimed Magnus' mouth with his own.

It was nothing like kissing a statue.

Alec said as much to Isabelle when she pestered him about it the next morning, and cheerfully left the institute to meet Magnus for coffee.


End file.
